


Wings

by cloudsarefluffy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Ending, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Model Dean, Photographer Castiel, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsarefluffy/pseuds/cloudsarefluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>--Castiel’s worn keys jangled in the doorway against the knob, a few grocery bags sitting uncomfortably on his wrists as he hurried himself inside with a muffled shiver. He was entering his apartment, bundled up in two- almost three- jackets, a scarf, and he was still currently freezing his limbs off. He locks the door with shaking fingers and wobbles over to the table, setting the bags on its surface and collapsing in a chair.</p><p>He had just walked five blocks through heavy snow and ice to just get a few minor things and supplies for his photo shoot- the one that’s about to start with Dean Winchester. --</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It All Starts Over a Burger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earthseraph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/gifts).



> This is a gift fic if you haven't noticed haha!  
> I'm currently working on ch. 2 so don't worry.  
> I don't think this fic will be long at all, I promise haha.

 

_Before I put the words on here, this is a photo of what Castiel's tattoos are supposed to look like:_

__

_You may continue._

* * *

Castiel’s worn keys jangled in the doorway against the knob, a few grocery bags sitting uncomfortably on his wrists as he hurried himself inside with a muffled shiver. He was entering his apartment, bundled up in two- almost three- jackets, a scarf, and he was still currently freezing his limbs off. He locks the door with shaking fingers and wobbles over to the table, setting the bags on its surface and collapsing in a chair.

 

He had just walked five blocks through heavy snow and ice to just get a few minor things and supplies for his photo shoot- the one that’s about to start with Dean Winchester.

 

Castiel considers himself a very lucky man when he gets the check for doing Dean’s camera work instead of someone else. The man was a popular hit among many magazines and a trend for the internet- all because, not only was he gorgeous anyway, he had mostly-midnight-colored wings sprouting from his back. It was rare to find somebody with them, and Dean’s extra appendages earned him a higher rating than most of the extremely professional models out there strutting what they had. Castiel can see why fairly easily.

 

He’s always liked wings, wanted them ever since he was little. So much so he got them tattooed on his upper back and forearms once when he was drunk with friends- but he doesn’t regret it because it looks awesome and it's the closest thing to actually having them. He likes how they look, and he wishes they were composed of actual downy feathers instead of ink. Castiel’s forgotten how many times he’s sat in front of a mirror in his apartment staring at the 2-D markings on his skin hoping one day they might actually become feathers. It was a hopeless thought, really. Besides, his wings would probably be mediocre at best.

 

Dean’s wings however were practically amazing- they were a dark shiny brown with flecks of dirty-blonde that matched his hair, and Castiel believes no other winged person could ever surpass their beauty with their feathers. Castiel adored them, adored taking so many photos of them with Dean flexing them out. They were just absolutely and undoubtedly beautiful. He was also graced with the blessing of being the only photographer Dean ever allowed to take photos of them with his consent and in such positions with him posing in a few feet away. It's like getting a Nobel Prize or something. Especially since Castiel is nowhere near the level or label “professional”.

 

There’s a quick and fleeting knock on the door, and Castiel throws off his overbearing jackets now his skin has gone to somewhat at a regular temperature, and he rushes to the door.

 

"Hey Cas."

 

"Hello, Dean."

 

"Sorry I'm behind a little- I kinda slept in through my alarm… I should stop staying up so late- barely had any time to get ready for you."

 

Castiel takes a moment for that last phrase to seep into his brain to be processed, but ends up furrowing his brow. Dean looks like he walked straight out of a catalogue or photo shoot, and he apparently didn't even try. Life is so unfair sometimes.

 

"It's fine, you're here now and that's all that matters."

 

Dean nods, "It's the cover for _Wings_ right?"

 

"It is. You know the drill."

 

Castiel is fixing the camera he has held tightly in his hands, fidgeting with some of the buttons and focusing the zoom when he chances a quick glance at Dean. _Big mistake._ It's because whenever Castiel ever looks towards Dean while he's getting prepared for a shoot, he can't stop watching and doesn't pay attention to anything but him. He's too caught up in the flexing muscles of Dean's back and taught wings, his eyes following the fine grain and the natural curves… Castiel can't help but swallow to cure his suddenly dry throat.

 

"Cas?" Dean's voice makes reality snap back into place, "You ready?"

 

Castiel nearly fumbles with his camera, silently thankful that Dean’s back is to him, hoping there's no crimson lining his cheeks as he squeaks, "Yes.”

 

"What position do you want me in?"

 

Castiel's mind of course takes that in a very different way- but he forces the thoughts and images back to focus on business- only _business._

 

"Over there on the floor next to the sliding door. Are they okay with you being shirtless?"

 

Dean smirks, "Sugar, they'd pay any amount to see me naked. It's completely fine."

 

Castiel is sure his blush is beyond visible now, " _Oh-_  well just take off your shirt then, I think I might have an idea."

 

Dean does as Castiel instructs, and Castiel watches as Dean's back faces him once more- the fibers and sinew moving under his flawless, tanned skin as he shucks his shirt off above his head like a stripper would when servicing her client of the night. When Dean turns, Castiel tries to avert his gaze, and even when looking out of the corner of his eye he can still fucking tell Dean's smirking right now. He's naturally tan, like the sun kissed his skin sweetly and its warm touch still lingered. Making him look like he was lit which in a way vibrated off in a warm sort of creamed coffee tone. Castiel can't deny that Dean's attractive- no one can.

 

"Lay down by the sliding door."

 

Once Dean's settled on the floor, Castiel goes over to push the curtains shielding the clear glass away. The snow had lightened a bit, now just a slow downfall. Now he can see the city line of New York glowing faintly in the background perfectly.

 

"It's gorgeous isn't it?"

 

Castiel nearly jumps at Dean's voice. It sounds disconnected from him, as if Dean's too focused in the flurries of ice crystals drifting outside.

 

"It is…" Castiel mumbles in reply, heart fluttering in his chest like the frozen precipitation Dean’s so entranced by.

 

Castiel goes back to where he was originally, taking the camera into his hand and off of his chest, flicks his tongue across his chapped lips to try and make them feel less ashy. Dammit, he needs to get chapstick… 

 

"Okay- sit straight in front me and flex your wings above you, kind of like an eagle would posing for a dollar bill when there’s a change in currency."

 

Dean smirks at that as he unsheathed his wings, Castiel nearly losing himself in the sight of the feathers. He silently clears his throat. They ruffle out above Dean easily, joints fluidly pulling upwards and causing them to go high above Dean's head and almost to the ceiling.

 

"Now look out towards the window. It's going to be like you're stretching at home or something."

 

"Not a bad idea… They'll like that- homey and not too flashy."

 

"That's one of the goals." Castiel checks the camera one more time, "Don't wanna make you look like a complete porn star, do we?"

 

Dean chuckles at that, but doesn't reply. Instead he looks in the direction that Castiel requested, wings still taught and raised as Castiel snaps a few quick shots. Once satisfied, Castiel let's the camera fall to his chest like a teenage girl would once done playing with her necklace.

 

"Alright-" Dean looks at him then, green eyes bright and all focused on Castiel, "I want you to sit and look out the window this time. Instead of having your wings in the air all tensed, have them relaxed on your back and lying on the floor a little."

 

Dean nods and complies, voice in a funny tone as he speaks, "As you wish."

 

Castiel tilts his head in misunderstanding while Dean just shakes his head in utter disappointment, "I can't make references with you…"

 

"Is that bad?"

 

"No. It's cute, actually."

 

Castiel blushes, "Oh…"

 

Dean poses while Castiel snaps the shot, the black speckled appendages resting easily among the honey-gold floorboards. Castiel clicks the button once more and then moves his camera down a little. It rests in his hands, looking as though he’s prepared to take a picture of Dean because he’s supposed to be- Castiel just can’t. He can’t with how utterly amazing Dean looks right now. All relaxed and settled in his apartment, his second most intimate body part exposed to Castiel as he watches the light flurries of snow in a not-so-distant window. It screams at Castiel like some sort of daydream come true, that the person you admire so much seems to be so down to Earth or something and Castiel just can’t process it really.

 

“Do I need to change positions now?”

 

Castiel nearly swallows wrong- something that’s happened before, actually, “Oh, sure. You can freestyle this if you want. I don’t have anymore preferences or ideas right now.”

 

Dean seems to take to those words like a duck to water, fanning out his wings against the New York skyline, like he’s about to just take flight and leave out of the window. Castiel feels his breath slip through his dry lips as he can see tiny bits of the tall buildings and lights through the dark peppered feathers, and the lights coming through look like small stars.

 

“Is this good?” Dean asks, as though any of his poses could be anything but _good._

 

“Yeah uhh, just fine actually…”

 

Castiel takes several pictures of this, being sure that his lens takes to the little speckles of light and dirty-blonde. _Wings_ was going to be blown away.

 

Dean turns now, “Is there anywhere else that you want to shoot?”

 

“I didn’t think of anything else…” Castiel sheepishly admits, running a hand through his hair for a moment before adding, “Where do you want to go?”

 

“I have some ideas… But I’ll wait till later to tell you. Let’s get some food first- I’m ravenous. That okay?”

 

Castiel is a little surprised because this usually isn’t how Dean does a photo shoot at all. There was snapping a few shots and it was done- over. Or at least until Dean’s job came calling again. There was never any plates or the clinking of forks involved when it came to these things, so Castiel had the right to be a little off balanced at that. But who can deny Dean Winchester?

 

“Uhh- sure.”

 

Dean smiles brightly, his white teeth amplifying the curve of his soft lips, “Come on then, I’ve got a place.”

 

Castiel bundles himself up but not as much as before. You don’t want to look like you’re made of blubber when it comes to impressing your slight crush- alright, it’s a little more than that but Castiel has to keep this as professional as possible. Dean already has his leather jacket on, an accessory that’s fairly common with him throughout more than just the winter months. His wings are gone and tucked in for the moment, they usually are when Dean’s not getting photographs done of him and he’s in public. Castiel locks the door behind him as Dean waits in the hallway.

 

“So where are we going?”

 

“Some hole in the wall I know. Not too popular but the food’s great.”

 

Castiel nods, “Should I know I about it?”

 

There’s a laughs that rings through the air that causes Castiel to feel like he’s melting into his one jacket, “Maybe- but you will after this.”

 

Castiel follows Dean out into the bustling crowds of New York City, cold nipping at his cheeks and easily seeping through his one coat. He regrets trying not to make himself look like a puffed marshmallow around Dean and freezing his ass off in the process. Well, if Castiel had purple fingertips and toes in the morning then it’s his own damn fault.

 

“Cas, you okay? You look like you’re freezing over there…”

 

“N-No I’m not. I just get the c-chills sometimes… It’s nothing to be worried ab-bout.”

 

Dean furrows his brow, “Come ‘ere.”

 

Castiel starts to ask why, to protest the idea even though he really doesn’t want to when he feels Dean’s arm snake around his waist and pull him close. Castiel is sure he can keep himself warm with how heated his cheeks become at the proximity, but Dean seems adamant to have Castiel cling to his side. His teeth chatter for a moment longer, but soon the heat rolling off from Dean seems to settle the chill somewhere distant enough for his jaw to stop spasming. He hopes Dean won’t notice as he slides a little closer and nearly hums at the feeling. Dean doesn’t seem to- thank God for small miracles, sometimes.

 

“Feelin’ better Cas?” Dean asks, his hand resting comfortably at Castiel’s hip.

 

Castiel nods, “A fraction yes… Umm, thank you Dean.”

 

“It’s nothin’ Cas.”

 

Right… Nothing…

 

It’s just then that they arrive at the small “hole in the wall”, a small favor to Castiel because he doesn’t want to focus on those three words that just left Dean’s mouth. He fears it’ll smother the warm little feeling he’s got buzzing in his chest right now, and it would be like him to turn these moments sour over a lost one.

 

The restaurant in question doesn’t seem like much, just like an Average Joe’s place to go when he didn’t feel like making some new dirty dishes. Dean walks in, a bell ringing as the door opens. The room they’re entering immediately feels homey, warm compared to the chilled weather outside as he and Dean chose a table in the corner. Castiel takes the seat that lets him see the whole room while Dean sits down with his back to the entrance.

 

A woman comes over, curly blonde hair falling over her shoulders and framing her face, and going by her expression she and Dean are familiar with each other.

 

“Hey Jo!”

 

“Hey Dean- good to see you’re back again so soon.”

 

Castiel feels a pang of something low in his gut as he sees the smiles they’re sharing, “How could I not? You and Ellen-” just perfect, someone else, “know I can’t stay away from here if I tried.”

 

Jo snorts, “Yeah, but something tells me you’ll never put the effort in to think that for a second.”

 

“You know me so well.”

 

“We all do Dean.” she rolls her eyes with that and turns to Castiel, “What would you like to get? Dean-o here never changes his order.”

 

Castiel clears his throat, not expecting to be thrown into the conversation so early on, “Oh umm- I’ve never been here before so uhh… I’ll have what he’s having.”

 

She smiles, “Seems a little risky to take a shot in the dark with your stomach on the line- but hey, Dean-o here just gets a burger and fries. Lucked out this time.”

 

Jo leaves, Castiel trying to stop the bitterness of disappointment that’s about to crash onto his mood like an overbearing wave as he shifts in his seat. He feels so uncomfortable now, like someone’s taken his skin and rubbed it all wrong until it was raw and poured lemon juice on it.

 

“You okay Cas? You look like you’ve got ants crawling on you or somethin’.”

 

Castiel straightens, looking at the dark wood forming their table as if it were Dean or something instead, “Oh- I’m okay. I’ve just never been here before…”

 

Castiel wishes that all of that was true.

 

Dean seems to take that as an acceptable answer, leaning back in his chair and running a hand in his hair and sighing, “Sorry about Jo or whatever… She and I have an… unique relationship.”

 

This is something Castiel surely wants to remain unknown, “Oh- how so?”

 

“Well,” Castiel is really digging his own grave right now, “she and I have known each other for a long time. People usually view us as a couple, or friends with benefits- sometimes a relationship that went south or something but it’s… It’s not that at all. Jo and I are kind of an unrelated brother and sister to each other.”

 

“Oh.” and Castiel finds it suddenly easier to breathe, “She mentioned someone else… Ellen, was it?”

 

Dean smiles, Castiel fearing for the worst, “Oh- that’s her mom. She and I also go way back.”

 

Castiel gives a mental scream of relief, letting himself relax a little in his chair- he has nothing to worry about, “Huh, well that’s good. I’m guessing this is their place, then?”

 

“Yep-” Dean plays with the straw of his coke, “they used to own a roadhouse off the interstate in Nebraska a long time ago, but they moved up here after Jo’s dad died. Jo and I met when I was in high school- we were both in photography together.”

 

Castiel smiles, “I never would have guessed you would know how to handle a camera.”

 

“That’s because more often than not they’d rather have me in front of it.”

 

That’s when Jo shows up, which Castiel is unsure to call a good or bad thing- considering their conversation seemed to be leading to a sensitive subject for Dean. Castiel instead eyed his plate in front of him then Dean, counting the seeds on the bun rather than the faint freckles on Dean’s face. The food looks surprisingly good, actually. Better than Castiel had imagined it would be. Dean seems to glance up at him once before settling his gaze upon his glistening fries.

 

“So, does it seem like you can trust my word and stomach more often?” Dean asks, dipping a fry in ketchup and popping it into his mouth, chewing while Castiel swallows some of his water.

 

He nods, “I guess I should- this doesn’t seem bad at all. This is what you usually get, from what Jo said?”

 

“Of course! They’ve got the best burgers here in New York because they know how to cook em’ just right. I grew up mostly in Texas so I know some good beef when I see or taste it.”

 

Castiel nearly swallows his fry down wrong, but quickly rebounds, “T-That’s a good quality to have.”

 

Dean smirks after he takes his first bite, sort of moaning into the hamburger and it makes Castiel’s mouth water a little. He breaks his gaze off of Dean before it’s noticeable he’s staring and settles it on his burger. He picks it up with slightly weary hands, fixing it in his grip a little above the plate before moving it towards his mouth. Castiel lets it meet his opened lips, sliding it in and taking a small bite. He chews, surprised at the taste that seems to now be overwhelming his taste buds.

 

“Told you it was good.”

 

Castiel hadn’t noticed Dean watching him, something that makes the buzz he’s been feeling lately prickle his skin and give him goosebumps. He swallows early (to some displeasure) to reply, “It’s not that I don’t believe you Dean, it’s just a ‘I have to try this for myself to be the judge of that’ kind of thing.”

 

Dean gives a soft smile, unusual considering most of the time it’s a playful smirk that means a witty comment or something else is on it’s way. It makes Castiel want to see it more often before it’s gone so Dean can talk, “I think I know the feeling.”

 

“The feeling?” Castiel deadpans, “Why is that?”

 

There it is again- that smile, “There’s someone I’ve got my eyes on right now, you know? They’re really special and stuff, trust them like no one else. Everyone’s told me I shouldn’t even really be talking to them, that I should spend time with ‘people more like me’. I say bullshit, it’s my time I can do what I want with it. But this person Cas- they’re just amazing.”

 

Yep, good feelings gone.

 

“R-Really? …”

 

Dean doesn’t seem to notice how much Castiel had deflated in happiness as he eagerly continues, “Yeah! I see them a lot- or as much as I can manage you know? Work usually gets in the way with them so I don’t have much time… But recently I think I’ve been able to take a step forward with them, explore the path of something more than knowing each other, you know?”

 

“Yeah…” Castiel looks solemnly at the rest of his food, suddenly uninterested and not hungry, “I think I do. Good luck with them, Dean.”

 

“Thanks Cas, I think I’m going to need it. They’re kind of an introverted person-” Dean stops talking for a moment and then continues on quietly, “You’ve stopped eating… Is there something wrong, Cas? Do you need another plate or something? …”

 

Castiel shakes his head in a quick denial, “No no! It’s just- I’m not as hungry as I originally thought…”

 

“Oh…” it’s all Dean says now.

 

They don't talk much after that, the words of Dean's fancy to another person have caused Castiel's stomach to be as ever shifting as the ocean waves. Maybe he was getting seasick from them. He hides the hand resting uneasily on his stomach with his coat, Dean no longer offering to warm Castiel. It only furthers on the forlorn feeling in the air. They make it back to Castiel's apartment.

 

"Umm- I think we've got enough pictures today Dean…" Castiel says quietly, standing with the man who just took his heart and shoved it into a blender in front of his door, "Thank you for the food and giving me some of your time. I know- I know it's a lot for you."

 

Dean seems to avoid Castiel's eyes, voice falling a little flat like Castiel's past hopes as he speaks, "Yeah, don't mention it Cas…"

 

Great, now Castiel's upset him too. As if he need anymore reasons to slap himself in the mirror today.

 

"Goodbye Dean."

 

"Later Cas."

 

Castiel unlocks his apartment door and falls against the wood once it's shut. He feels like vomiting, feels like crying- instead he just runs a hand through his hair while walking towards his room in defeat. He slumps against the bed, head about as unsteady as the beating in his chest. How can a day that started out so well end so badly?

  


**…**

  


There's a hefty knocking on Castiel's door that first gets his attention.

 

The second thing is this inconsistent itch on his back that almost _burns_ with how strong it flares. The rooms too hot and too cold, somehow never lending Castiel any comfort as he wraps the blanket tightly around his shoulders to fend himself. He pads to the door, shuffling as he tries to keep his stomach from emptying itself till he at least answers the god damn door.

 

"Hello?" Castiel pulls the door back to Dean, "W-What are you doing here?"

 

Dean starts saying something but abruptly shuts his mouth, then begins sliding himself through the door in a way that makes Castiel grunt with irritation.

 

"Dean- you never answered me."

 

Dean holds a hand up behind himself, eyes darting all around. He sniffs the air- which Castiel finds weird- then proceeds to scan all of the rooms in Castiel's apartment.

 

"Cas, have you been the only person here?" Dean seems to only get confused more as Castiel shakes his head, "No one's been here other than you?"

 

Castiel sighs, "No Dean- it's just been me in my own apartment. Now come on, why are you here? We don't have a photo shoot or anything today. You're not scheduled to come until next week, at least."

 

Dean seems to rush through his words in one sentence, Castiel barely able to understand him, "I was worried about how you were because of how yesterday ended so I came over here to apologize and see if you okay and if we could complete our shoot and you open the door looking sick as hell with the smell of a wingling in your apartment. That suffice, Cas?"

 

"I guess so…" Castiel has so many damn questions now, "What do you mean wingling scent?"

 

Dean is checking the latches of Castiel's windows before moving to the sliding door, as if the answers to the scent Castiel doesn't even know about are held there, "Someone who's just gotten wings Cas. You know- the things I have?"

 

"Thank you for that Dean-" Castiel says curtly, "but I still don't understand. No one's been in this apartment other than you and me. Could it be someone else in the complex?"

 

The man watches as Dean shakes his head, now even looking underneath Castiel's couch cushions, "No- there's a limited range it has and it's the strongest in your-" Dean lifts his head, "bedroom."

 

"Dean?"

 

Dean looks over with an expression that makes Castiel feel like a bug under a magnifying glass in the sun, "Sheet, shirt, or whatever- off. Now."

 

"D-Dean, what are you-"

 

Dean rolls his eyes and rushes over, struggling with the fabric Castiel is cocooning himself in, "Dammit Cas let me-"

 

The blanket falls away from Castiel's shoulders, the photographer feeling his cheeks heat because Dean's staring. Castiel feels like he should hide or something, or at least pick the blanket up off of the floor. Either way he's a little embarrassed, knowing that Dean is full and well seeing the black wings inked on his skin.

 

"Before you ask- I was drunk when I got the tattoos."

 

"It's not that it's-" Dean takes a sharp inhale before speaking again, "dammit Cas you've got wings."

  


  
  
  
  
  



	2. Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another ch. now uploaded from SCHOOL. -gasps-  
> And there's a tad bit of smut!~  
> I'll fix it later once I'm home.  
> (This was written with an iPod.)

 

Castiel nearly faints, "I- I- _what?! "_

 

Dean licks his lips nervously, "They're still in your back for right now… They umm- I've got to pull em' out, Cas… Among other things…"

 

"What do you mean _pull them out?"_

 

"They don't magically exit your skin, Cas. It's kind of like getting a new tooth, the old one has to fall out first. They need a little help."

 

Castiel has to sit down or he’ll more than likely topple over an onto the floor in a heaped mess. Dean guides him to the couch where Castiel huddles in on himself, arms crossing over his uneasy stomach.

 

“You alright Cas?”

 

Castiel beckons him to get the small trash can in the corner, proceeding to vomit into it once it’s in the safe distance from Castiel’s mouth. Dean sighs, sitting on the arm of the couch and rubbing Castiel’s shoulders as he empties his stomach. Once he’s done, Castiel falls back against the sofa and takes a deep breath, trying to level himself and his nausea out.

 

“I think I’m going to have to stay here with you for a while.” Dean admits, setting the used trash can over to the side with a disgusted expression while Castiel wearily apologizes, “It’s fine Cas- you don’t know what’s going on with your body right now.”

 

“Damn straight I don’t…” 

 

Dean sits himself down beside Castiel, “Hey it’s gonna be okay… I went through this too ya know.”

 

“You did? …” Castiel mumbles, letting his head rest against his hands.

 

“Yeah… it’s a transition to say at the least.” Dean gets up, “If we don’t get them out they might get infected Cas… They already look swollen and stuff. I can help you through this but I’m no doctor- if you get infected then you’re on your own there.”

 

Castiel stands up with some help from Dean, the man asking where Castiel’s bathroom is and guiding the both of them there. Castiel feels like his stomach and brain have somehow connected and twisted themselves up into a fairly complicated knot- his body trying to figure out some way in hell to get them untangled. Dean sets him on the edge of the tub, Castiel’s legs sitting in the basin as Dean turns on the water to hot. Soon Castiel’s feet are surrounded by luke warm water as steam rolls up, making him feel minorly better for the moment. He relaxes as Dean gets stuff ready behind him.

 

“I’m going to have to cut the skin, okay? And before you freak out-” Castiel stops his heart from bursting somehow, hands gripping the tub to where it’s almost matching it’s whiteness, “it’s not going to hurt at all. It’s just a thin layer of skin, like when a scab peels.”

 

“Nice comparison…” Castiel grunts.

 

“It’s the closest thing I can think to describe it, okay?” (Really, it is.)

 

Castiel bites his lip, hearing Dean separate the flesh on his back and all of the sudden a flash of sensations assault him that he’s never had before. It’s like a whole new temperature near his back, and he shifts uneasily at the weird _wetness_ he feels now that’s never been there before. Dean grunts from behind him, and Castiel can feel his hands working through the slits to ease his wings out. The photographer nearly faints and falls into the tub, Dean catching him just in time with his arm and giving a sigh of relief. 

 

“Scared me there, Cas.”

 

“I’m not-” Castiel knows they’re still stuck inside, “I’m not used to this… feeling.”

 

Dean gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “I know Cas- it’s weird at first. But we’re almost there… Then umm- we’re going to have to wash them…”

 

_Oh, what’s bad about that?_

 

Dean goes quiet after that, focusing on getting Castiel’s newfound wings out rather than making conversation- which works out because Castiel still feels like upchucking. It only worsens when his new wings slide out with a wet pop that sends his nerves and gut reeling.

 

“There we are-” Dean’s smiling as he lets Castiel get a moment to process the new limbs on his back, “that wasn’t too bad was it?”

 

Castiel trembles, hearing the dampened feathers shake behind him and rustle, feels them do it. It’s all foreign to him, and he tries to stop himself from shaking- from what he doesn’t know exactly. Dean turns the water on and clears his throat awkwardly.

 

“Do you mind if your boxers get wet? …”

 

Castiel tilts his head, a question he thought he’d never hear in his life let alone come from Dean Winchester himself, “Uhh- why?”

 

“I’m going to have to clean your wings… You don’t know how to control them yet and it’ll take you a while to learn how to clean them and stuff. I’ll teach you later- besides, you look like you’re about to pass out or something…”

 

“I might.”

 

Dean lets Castiel strip down to his boxers, and the man thanks himself for only ever buying solid colors such as black as he sets himself down in the water. He feels like a little child right now, but hey- beggars can’t be choosers. 

 

Dean starts off by taking Castiel’s right wing in his hand, taking some soap from nearby and squeezing it onto the feathers. Castiel squirms a little, not enjoying the slippery or cool feeling it gives him as the water sloshes around below. Dean hums some _Metallica_ as he lathers the wing, Castiel relaxing a bit as the feelings start becoming a little easier to process.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah Cas?”

 

There’s a pause, “What do… What do my wings look like?”

 

Dean stops working in the soap and humming altogether, settling a little before answering, “They’re… gorgeous.”

 

Castiel reddens, looking at the small bubbles in the water rather than Dean, “Oh… Can I look at them in the mirror once you’re done washing them, then? Or something else?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Dean resumes washing then, Castiel still blushing a shade that would make even the ripest tomato jealous. This still feels weird for him and all, to be fair. He only finds it even worse to process as Dean washes off his new wings- the sensation weird in itself- and the runoff a faded crimson.

 

“Is t-that… blood?” Castiel whispers.

 

“Yeah. It’s normal, so don’t feel like you’re dying or something. Mine were actually worse than yours are.”

 

Castiel nods, “This is all just so… weird.”

 

Dean snorts a laugh, “Yeah- you’re telling me. I showed up here trying to fix things and next thing I know you’ve got these sprouting from your back.”

 

“Fix things? You’re talking about earlier, aren’t you…” Castiel lowers his voice, feeling his wings droop with his mood a little, “About the whole feeling yesterday when you left or something…”

 

“Yeah that…” 

 

Dean trails off for a moment, washing some of Castiel’s brand new feathers even kinder than before. Castiel feels his wing move towards Dean, offering more angles for him to work out the clots and the shed them of the crimson lining their grains. Dean just hums a little again, Castiel watches as the tub’s water shifts to pink over time.

 

“What I meant by fixing things-” Dean nearly makes Cas jump with how abrupt his sentence is, but the photographer settles back in the tub again while Dean cleans his wings, “is that I think I sort of made you uncomfortable yesterday. I didn’t mean to, it just happened…”

 

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

 

Dean sighs, “Cas you’re awful at lying so don’t even try. Either way I just feel like I overstepped a boundary I didn’t know we had, you know? I feel like I brought up something a little too personal or something for you and I just wanted to let you know… Well Cas, I’m sorry.”

 

Castiel looks up from the bathwater for the first time, brows furrowing in confusion, “Sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“That’s not the point Cas it’s-” Dean looks away, biting his lips and then shaking off the reddened soap from his hands before getting up off of the covered toilet, “I need a minute…”

 

Castiel feels awful as Dean leaves, shutting the door behind him as he exits. Castiel’s fresh wings settle against his back in a saddened way, the photographer feeling guilt rise up in him as he shifts awkwardly in the soap and blood laden water.

 

“Yeah… I’m sorry too…” he whispers.

 

Castiel sticks his wing out in front of him, surprised to see that Dean’s nearly done with it, most of the blood gone as his feathers shine brightly under the unnatural brightness from his lightbulbs. His wings are puffy white, like a cotton ball, except small little specks of other colors. Castiel can see black, brown, and gray all within the strands and he feels his breath catch on his lips. Dean was right- his wings are gorgeous. Great, now he feels guilty and self-conceited.

 

“I’m back.”

 

Castiel shifts his wing back as though he wasn’t just staring at it, still looking down at the water as he mumbles, “I haven’t left.”

 

Dean chuckles lightly, a kind of sound someone would make when you’re trying to cheer them up but it isn’t entirely working, “I can see that, Cas.”

 

Then Dean returns to washing his wings like nothing happened.

 

**_…_ **

 

Castiel is laying on the floor in front of his sliding door now, Dean nearby fixing something in the kitchen that he says helps with the aches Castiel is feeling. Sometimes it feels as though someone’s taking a match to the tips of his feathers while it’s lit, making the man shift in discomfort that Dean said was natural. Apparently new wings are fairly sensitive and can be angered easily.

 

“How’s the air doin’ ya Cas?” Dean calls out, the sound of spoon resting in a bowl reaching Castiel’s ears, “Your wings feelin’ better?”

 

Castiel hums, “Definately.”

 

He stretches them just like Dean had yesterday for his photoshoot. It’s kind of strange to think such a thing, that yesterday Dean was the only one who had wings in this apartment. Suddenly there’s a snap of a camera that causes Castiel to jump, Dean grimacing behind him.

 

“I wanted a few more…” he says quietly, “Ah well- we’ll get em’ later.”

 

“Uhh, later? …”

 

Dean smiles, “Cas, your wings are amazing. I want to take some photos of them, if you don’t mind.”

 

Castiel is unsure about it until Dean mumbles softly, “It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to work behind a camera…”

 

“Fine…”

 

“What Cas?” Dean looks up hopefully.

 

“I said fine, just-” Dean snaps a quick shot for fucking giggles, “oh nevermind.”

 

Castiel just stretches, laying horizontally on the floor and letting his wings settle above him, resting along the curvature of his back. There’s a few more sounds of Castiel’s camera taking pictures, some of them getting closer and closer. Eventually Castiel’s stomach gets irritated with him laying down on it so Castiel flips onto his side. One of his wings is splayed out onto the floor behind him while the other comes to rest along his hip comfortably. 

 

“Damn Cas you’re a natural.”

 

Another snap of the lens sounds out, “A natural?”

 

“Yeah. Maybe we can send some of your photos in with mine- who knows, maybe you can get a career in modeling.”

 

Castiel huffs a fake laugh, “Yeah, like they’d want me on their covers.”

 

Dean seems to furrow his brow, “What does that mean?”

 

“I’m saying that I’m not the modeling type, Dean. I’ve never been one for being the subject, more so of the artist. I don’t expect you to understand…”

 

“Are you implying something?” Dean’s tone goes a tad sour.

 

“No I’m not just-” Castiel just likes fucking things up for himself, “I’m just saying you wouldn’t understand because it’s not simple like that. I wish I could explain really how it is, but I can’t. I’d rather be taking photos than being in them… It’s the best way I can describe it.”

 

Dean seems to soften a little, lowering Castiel’s camera, “Oh…”

 

Castiel looks away to New York that’s just outside, “Sorry if you thought I was implying something. I’ve noticed you don’t like particularly being a model sometimes…”

 

“No one does.” Dean suddenly sits down behind Castiel, laying a hand on one of his wings and straightening out the feathers- something that Castiel forgot to do an hour ago and finds great comfort in, “Sometimes I wish I weren’t one. I could walk down the streets and all of that without being eyed at either like candy or a joke. I put my body out there as a living mannequin practically, it’s not the best life. Especially when you’re practically showing everyone one of the most secretive parts of your body.” 

 

“Secretive? I knew wings were special but… I didn’t ever know exactly how much…”

 

Dean gives a soft huff, like a beginning of a laugh that didn’t quite make it, “They’re a sign of trust or something more. When I first got my wings, it was my mom that cleaned them for me- it’s supposed to be sort of a bonding thing between you and someone else. She showed me how to clean and take care of my wings, just like I am you. They’re more than just a showpiece.”

 

Castiel swallowed uneasily, still feeling Dean’s fingers smoothing out his dried and cleaned feathers, “So this right now… it’s… what, exactly?”

 

“I don’t know.” Dean says, then even quietly adds, “You tell me.”

 

_**…** _

 

Castiel sees the sun beginning to dip behind or through the towering buildings, hearing Dean fix them some sandwiches since Castiel doesn’t know how to exactly control his wings yet and Dean can’t leave him just in case something goes wrong or- well that’s what Castiel told him. At least he agreed to stay a little longer.

 

“Hey Cas-” Dean opens the fridge and looks around, “is this lunch pack of roast beef still good?”

 

“Should be.” Castiel sits on the floor rather than the couch like he usually does, his wings twitching along his back.

 

Castiel flips through the channels on the TV while he hears Dean shift things around in the kitchen, placing a pan onto the stove and sizzling soon coming from it. Castiel pauses for a moment through his channel browsing.

 

“What are you fixing?”

“I’m kinda throwing this together…” Dean admits, “But I’m cooking the roast beef and toasting some bread, then when the meat’s done I’m gonna put it on there with a piece of cheese.”

 

Castiel nods, “Sounds… interesting.”

 

“I’m hoping it tastes just as good.”

 

There’s still sounds coming from the kitchen as Castiel settles on some TV show that has to do with some tall man with sharp cheekbones and a scarf running around solving crimes with someone who reminds Castiel of the little midget person from those books he read once. Castiel just has awful memory for those things.

 

“Whatcha watchin’?” Dean asks.

 

“I dunno… Some murder type of show. I think it’s pretty good though I have no idea what’s going on. The acting is superb.”

 

Dean nods, “I think I’ve heard of that show before, it’s British so that’s why they’ve got the accents and all of those words or phrases we don’t use over here like ‘flat’ or ‘biscuits and tea’. I dunno, I’ve never watched it.”

 

“Neither have I but it proves to be interesting.” 

 

Castiel and Dean stop conversating after that because it seems as though food is ready. Dean comes in and hands a plate to Castiel, his hands taking it eagerly and eating it. It’s pretty good, and Castiel smiles because whatever he had to eat from yesterday ended up in a trash can.

 

“Slow down or you’ll choke-” Dean laughs, “I’m supposing you like it?”

 

Castiel nods, “It’s really good, I like it.”

 

Dean smiles just like he had at the small restaurant yesterday and Castiel has to look away. He focuses on chewing and not choking, or having his wings spasm and hit something like they did earlier- which Dean laughed at him for. Dean seems to hold that smile on his face for a bit before taking the plates back to the kitchen and placing them in the sink.

 

“You’re wings bothering you?”

 

Castiel looks behind him, “They’re a little sore…”

 

“Well-” Dean flops on the couch, “I’m going to stay here tonight just in case. Sometimes your wings can do stuff that you don’t know about yet, and if I’m predicting this right you should start producing oil for em’ soon.”

 

“Oil?” 

 

Dean nods, “Yeah, it’s to keep them clean and it helps protect them n’ stuff. You won’t know what to do and it’s an interesting to say at the very least. You should try sleeping now, you need as much as you can get.”

 

Castiel nods and pads off to the bedroom, feeling a little awkward to the sort of swinging sensation behind him from his wings. He settles on his mattress with on his side, wings sprawled out till he’s comfortable underneath the downy feathers and comforter.

 

It’s funny to think that Castiel did this yesterday with no wings on his back or a Dean Winchester on his couch- but hey, life likes throwing curve balls at you sometimes when you’re up to bat. The photographer sighs in content, hearing Dean shuffle around in his apartment a little as his eyes drift close.

_**…** _

 

_Click._

 

Castiel blinks his eyes open, Dean standing nearby with the camera with that damn smile Castiel loves on his face playing on his lips, “Mornin’ Cas.”

 

“Hello Dean, what are you doing?” Castiel grumbles, finding himself on his stomach, so he leans up on an elbow.

 

“I’m still taking my own pictures Cas. I came in here to wake you up for breakfast and I saw you and just had to take a shot.”

 

Castiel grimaces as Dean walks away- warn a guy first, at least. Or give him some time to not look like he just got reincarnated from the dead.

 

“There’s some eggs and bacon on the counter. I went to the store and got some stuff.”

 

Castiel grabs the plate, seeing that Dean’s got some orange juice set on the coffee table for him and he smiles, “Thanks Dean, but you didn’t have to do this.”

 

Dean makes a noise while he rolls his eyes playfully, “Don’t mention it Cas- it’s fine. Now hurry up, I wanna see how I did on my eggs.”

 

Castiel shoots up an eyebrow as he sits next to Dean, more so on the edge of the couch because of his wings as he digs into the plate. Dean watches like a kid awaiting their parent’s approval, eyes not leaving Castiel as the first forkful of eggs makes its way into Castiel’s mouth.

 

“They’re good Dean- no need to worry.”

 

Dean relaxes and smiles, “It’s not that I did, I just wanted to be sure.”

 

Castiel soon finishes his plate and then stands, “What are we supposed to do today?”

 

“Good question Cas,” Dean stands up too, except he’s going to the bathroom, “I thought you’d might ask that.”

 

Castiel tilts a brow as he pads into the kitchen, setting his dishes in the sink, turning to find Dean standing there with a special brush and something that looks like spray-in conditioner.

 

“W-What’s that?”

 

“It’s a feather brush and a wing spray. It’s specially formulated for sensitive or new wings- it’s to help keep them clean until most of your natural oil kicks in or something. The brush just helps clean them and stuff better. Wanna try it? It’s the same stuff I use.”

 

Castiel can’t help but feel like this is what a mother does to her daughter whenever she’s old enough to try the same things, but sighs and shakes his head in moderate defeat, “Sure. My wings itch anyways.”

 

They sit in front of the sliding door again, the clouds slightly parted today with a little light shining through. It feels good to Castiel, his wings naturally outstretching and flaring out. Dean awkwardly clears his throat, making the extra appendages quickly pull back to Castiel’s sides in an instant.

 

“Seems like we have to teach you what wing movement means…” Dean says quietly, Castiel unsure as of why.

 

“Is it like a bodily language?”

 

Dean nods, sitting in front of him this time instead of behind like he usually does, which Castiel finds a little endearing as he begins to brush flecks of dust and dirt out of Castiel’s wings. The photographer nearly purrs.

 

“You should let your wings out Dean,” Castiel stretches the one wing Dean doesn’t have in his hands out to absorb the limited sunlight, “it feels really good today.”

 

Dean nods, setting the brush down and sliding his shirt off- Castiel weary of where his eyes are- and exposes his own wings. They’re about the same size as Castiel’s, and the only differences that Castiel can really see is a minor bone structure difference and contrasting colors. Dean smiles warmly again, Castiel’s heart fluttering in his chest as he forces his wings to remain still. 

 

“Do you want to clean mine? It’s an easy way to learn.”

 

Castiel nearly breathes wrong, how he doesn’t know but he nearly does it nonetheless, “Oh- sure.”

 

Dean outstretches his wing forward, the feathers spreading and inviting Castiel to touch them. Castiel slowly raises a hand forward, bringing it to the feathers to find that they are extremely soft. Never before in his life had he ever thought he’d get to feel a wing- whether it be his own or Dean Winchester’s, it didn’t matter. Especially it being one that belonged to a man who can just snap and Castiel would be in a trance. Castiel is nervous as he begins to pick out things that he can, seeing no twitches in them or expression of discomfort on Dean’s face.

 

“D-Does this feel right?” Castiel asks softly, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

 

“No, you’re not. You’re doing pretty good for a first timer.”

 

Dean smirks and Castiel blushes, he's sure that it’s noticeable but there’s nothing he can do really other than sit there like an awkward duck. He settles on focusing on cleaning Dean’s feathers instead of his embarrassment, fingers working through the layers as carefully as possible as Dean shares the favor.

 

“You said your mom used to do this for you?”

 

Dean nods, “Yeah- but not for long really. We had a house fire and well… she didn’t make it.”

 

Castiel feels like a dick, “I’m sorry… I- I shouldn’t have said anything…”

 

“No, it’s alright, you didn’t know. It was years ago anyway, I’ve gotten time to get used to the fact. Still hurts, I just know in which ways it does.”

 

“So…” Castiel pauses, “You aren’t mad at me for being an idiot?”

 

Dean chuckles at that, smiling softly while he sifts through the feathers- Castiel’s feathers, “No, and you’re not an idiot.”

 

Castiel guesses there’s some things he and Dean will never agree on.

 

_**…** _

 

Castiel sits down on the sofa again, shifting uneasily on the cushions as Dean gets some of his things together.

 

"Thank you Dean."

 

Dean smirks, "You're welcome, and I'm not leaving just yet. I'm just getting a few more things and then I'm coming back."

 

"Oh." Castiel mumbles, "See you in a bit then."

 

The door to the apartment shuts and Castiel pouts on the floor. He shifts a little, his wings shifting. Castiel thinks for a moment, then goes over to his camera in sudden interest. His fingers linger on the black plastic, picking it up with hesitation as Castiel bites his lip in uncertainty. He flips on his camera, starting the memory card from his shoot with Dean yesterday.

 

There's photos of Dean with his wings spread and the snow drifting in the background- and then there's a sudden shift in the pictures. It goes from Dean directly to Castiel, no transition or anything. Castiel stares at the photos of himself, the first one being of him laying in front of that sliding door. It seems so weird because the damn thing actually looks good.

 

He sifts through the rest of the photos of himself, smiling as he realizes that Dean isn't half bad at taking pictures instead of being in them. Then there's some Castiel didn't know that Dean took. There's one of him sleeping, one of him laying belly down on the couch, and another with him sitting with a cup of hot tea on the floor. Castiel remembers that at that time Dean had been in the kitchen fixing something else for Castiel, and he bites his lip at the sweet of warmth in his chest and- what.

 

Castiel feels something slide down his skin, like a single drop of water. He twists himself to see his wing, seeing some type of liquid shining and wetting his feathers. Castiel swallows, bringing a hesitant hand to his wing and hissing at how sensitive it is.

 

"W-Wha..."

 

Castiel braces himself this time, letting his fingers actually linger on his wings for more than a split second- Castiel doesn't realize he's moaning till it leaves it throat dryly.

 

Castiel immediately pulls his hand away in fear. Dean never mentioned anything about something like this happening. It makes Castiel a little scared not knowing that his wings could turn him on like a light switch.

 

He should have a bit till Dean gets back...

 

Castiel knows that Dean took the key, so he deadbolts and uses the chain- just so he knows that he can open the door when he's ready to. Castiel goes to his room, shutting that door too and locking it as an extra precaution. He slides over onto the floor, not wanting to get whatever oil this is on his sheets or that there's evidence of what he's doing when Dean comes back. It'll just be easier to deny if there's no puddles on his bed.

 

Castiel pulls a wing forward, biting his lip and running his hand against his sensitive feathers again. Castiel trembles, his skin making his wings feel like their on fire and it's just _perfect._

 

Castiel moans out, neck arching back as the pleasure rolls through him. He feels sort if like a teenager, like even the slightest breeze would make him as horny as he could possibly be- but this... This surpasses that. Castiel finds himself reaching his peak faster than he did when he was thirteen, his bottom lip catching on a breathy word that sounds a whole lot like Dean. He thinks that it's Dean's fingers in his wings and not his own- that Dean is on top of him placing sloppy and heated kisses along his neck. Castiel can't help it, he keeps stroking his wings and pulling as many orgasms with his fantasy as he can manage until it gets to be too much. Castiel lays on the floor, wings twitching and mouth agape from a bliss that makes him feel like he's sky high. He smiles smugly, going to his bathroom to get patertowels.

 

He thought he told himself not to make any evidence or puddles.

 

_**...** _

 

Dean comes back- Castiel's newfound hobby only having last literally ten minutes- with a duffel and a new set of clothes on. Dean seems to eye Castiel weirdly as he enters, more than likely because Castiel is lying pliantly on his couch with a grin as wide as his wingspan.

 

"You seem like you're in a good mood." Dean comments after setting his things down near the door, "Anything big happen while I was gone?"

 

_Oh yes,_ "Nah- nothing too bad."

 

_Nope. Not bad at all._

 

"Alright... I was worried I was pushing it by taking a shower at my place, it's just I needed to wash my wings and I already had my soap there."

 

"No, it's fine."

 

Castiel watches as Dean nods, sitting down on the floor and holding out his hand.

 

"Wing. Now."

 

Castiel tilts his head, "Something wrong with them?"

 

Dean gives him a look that says 'we both know what I mean'. Castiel sighs in defeat, bending his wing outwards to Dean and looks away in embarrassment. Dean gives a grunt in annoyance.

 

"You started making oil."

 

"I-Is that a bad thing? ..." Castiel hopes his earlier activites weren't written on his face or feathers somehow for Dean to read.

 

Dean shakes his head, "No, just means you're going faster than I originally thought."

 

_Oh thank Jesus._

 

"Oh."

 

"Yeah, _oh._ "

 

Dean seems a little off, "Dean, are you alright?"

 

Dean looks way from Castiel and towards the floor and his legs, "I'm fine, Cas. Don't worry."

 

So Castiel doesn't- or at least _tries_  to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Operation Red Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'd be some sexual things in this ch. Good luck yo.~  
> (Plus it's almost finished.)

Castiel really needs to learn to take a hint sometimes, especially when it came down to it. That dense man hasn’t been catching onto anything Dean’s been doing and it’s internally frustrating the man right now. He’s done everything he can think of to get Cas’ attention and what does he get? _Fucking. Rejection._  Left and fucking right. Where does it end, really?

Dean grunts as he punches the couch, Castiel asleep in his room as the second day of Dean’s stay comes to a close. Life’s gotta be cruel because Dean feels so emotionally inert in disappointment and just-  _ugh._

He’s tried everything from the position of his wings- trust Dean when he says that some of the photos that Cas took of him modeling should really not have been sent out, but Cas didn’t understand the meaning obviously- to taking him to Ellen’s not too long ago. It was customary when courting someone, to show them you could provide so much more than just your time and company. Either way, Castiel seemed as interested in Dean as he was in Spam. Cas  _despises_  Spam.

He was doing everything right, wasn’t he? Or he was at least trying to be. If that didn’t count Dean didn’t know what would because he’s at his wits end with this fucking courting bullshit. It was supposed to be romantic and special for both parties, and all it wound up to be was failed attempts and Cas remaining as oblivious or impassive as ever.

Dean also doesn’t like the fact that Cas started making oil. It means that an angel has ‘come of age’ or something- he doesn’t remember exactly because his mother was telling him and it was nothing but fucking  _awkward._  Dean assumes it has to basically correlate with Cas becoming all hot and breathless and ready to have some fun under the sheets- which makes Dean’s mouth water. Cas has always had that effect on him.

It was that ever since Dean first laid eyes on the man. He saw a generous person with unseen talent and it’s what drew him to Cas in the first place, especially. Plus it was the fact the guy had absolutely amazingly blue eyes that Dean couldn’t help but find miraculous in the very least, or his raven hair and chapped lips that Dean wanted to ruffle those strands with his fingers as he licked that mouth to where he rehydrated the skin himself. No- it didn’t help at all, especially when he found out that Cas could do his photos for him. That’s when Dean’s first idea popped up into his head.

_Make Cas his own._

  


He forged the plan out in his mind, nicking out the kinks and laying out a flawless path that he could follow straight to the zipper of Cas’ jeans and his bedroom door. Of course, it didn’t work out when Dean first tried it. He had flexed his wings in all the right positions, shown the undersides with the most delicate feathers- something he’s never thought of doing or done before in his lifetime. Cas just took the pictures like he saw Dean as nothing more than a paycheck before it materialized into paper with ink littering it as numbers of money.

That of course dampened Dean’s efforts when trying to get Cas to notice him in a way as more than just a job. It was hard to, especially with all of these photograph organizations and magazines calling or hitting him up every damn second for a little snippet of “the man with the coal wings”. Dean knew he was a popular hit, was considered a sex god even though he’s never been one for laying himself bare for another- until Cas came along. It’s like anything he’s ever told himself was unneeded quickly became something vital.

Dean never really admitted defeat easily, so instead of packing up shop and finding another market, he probably poured cement around his stand tethers and gave a smirk that meant ‘I’m not leaving just yet or easily, motherfuckers’. It’s sort of like whenever a sea-bordering state issues an evacuation due to a hurricane, Dean being a complete dumbass for not getting out while he can with a ‘fuck it’ determined will as he waits out the storm. God- this is going to fucking kill him in the end, he knows it.

In turn to those characterizations, it meant that Dean wasn’t going to call it quits and leave the door to a relationship with Cas so simply. Nope- he was going to make a game plan, that’s what.

_Operation Red Wings._

Ironic, isn’t it?

Especially since somehow in this already complicated mess of missed shots and moments to assert his idea of a connection to Cas, that the son of a bitch happened to sprout wings. Dean hadn’t expected it at all- only came over to apologize to Cas for technically admitting that he was kinda in love with him. Minus the actual name ‘Cas’ or ‘Castiel’ and the gendered-pronouns. For Dean, it was like just getting an outright no.

Dean sets himself down on the couch, huffing out a sigh that’s a mixture of melancholy sourness and plummeting hopes. What has he done wrong? What hasn’t he done yet? He’s basically given the guy hand jobs with his wings like every other damn minute and now oil’s came out- only getting one position that imitated something sexual, but Castiel doesn’t understand it yet so it doesn’t count, bummer- and he’s gone for almost thirty-god-damn-minutes and finds that Cas got horny without him being present. No wonder Cas had looked like a person who just won the lottery after the adrenaline passed, he probably had an orgasm fest that surpassed Dean’s best record- which was twelve by the way. Shut the fuck up, he was thirteen, okay?

“What the hell am I supposed to be doing…” Dean mumbles to himself, “I’ve tried everything.”

_Almost_  everything.

The only thing that Dean’s been lacking has been just manning up the balls to just say “ _Hey Cas, I kind of really like you so let’s have rough and unrelenting sex over here on your floor for several days straight”_.

He could do that- but it’s too risky. Even if Dean really, really wants in Cas’ pants, he doesn’t want to put what relations they have- however limited to Dean’s distaste- by being a hormonal sex-driven machine. No, it can’t be like that all. Cas would surely shove him away, stop talking to Dean completely and there goes any chance (even if it’s smaller than the amount of people Dean’s actually given this much of a damn about, and there’s not many) he had of getting with the guy. Dean presses the heels of his palms into his eyes as he silently and internally screams.

If there’s anything he needs more than Cas right now, it’s a drink.

_**…** _

“Dean, wake up.” Dean feels Castiel shake him awake, “It’s nearly noon, now.”

“Oh fuck…” Dean groans, sitting up.

_Where in the fuck did time go?_

Cas raises an eyebrow and then pads into the kitchen, Dean not being able to keep his eyes off of the sway of Cas’ ass or his wings that make his mouth just water, “Do you want anything for lunch? Though I’m guessing it’s going to be more of a brunch for you, considering.”

There’s the sound of Cas making some coffee, which doesn’t seem too bad actually, “I dunno, what do you want Cas? I’m open to suggestions.”

_I’m also open to us just having at each right here on this floor in sixty-four different positions._

“I think I’m just going to fix some eggs. You okay with that?”

Dean grimaces a little because he should be preparing the food- not Cas, “Yeah. You want me to cook em’?”

Cas puts the pan onto the stove’s eye, “Nah- I got it. Thanks though.”

_God fucking dammit, how many god damn times will Dean be told no?_

Dean bites his lip in frustration as he walks to the bathroom, “I’ll be a moment. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay. Towels are in the side closet on the second rack, Dean.”

“Thanks.”

Dean grabs his duffel and heads towards the bathroom, his back bent over like a hermit would be whenever he has to leave his cave or similar to a hunchback. He closes the bathroom door and sets the back of his head against it, taking a deep breath when- oh.

Cas has been busy for some time then… No wonder he took forever to wake Dean up.

Contrary to belief, Dean isn’t exactly easy to fool or trick. He can pick out the little things that people hope he doesn’t notice in seconds- and it’s a little off that Castiel’s bathroom looks completely pristine and smells overpowering of lemon cleaner- especially in the shower. Dean smirks, so Cas isn’t so innocent after all then. Plus, it’s kind of a turn on to know that Cas was jerkin’ his chain not too far away from Dean- asleep or not that’s a big risk… Dean likes a guy who can take risks. A lot. Okay- he just likes _Cas_ a lot.

Dean bits his lip, a tickle of arousal goes down his spine at the thought, his wings coming out from his back and oil coats the feathers. He smiles, he’s never been this reactive since he got them. Dean turns on the water, feeling it roll down his back and into his feathers- which is enough to make his knees wobbly- as he prepares himself in the shower. He bends a wing forward, closing his eyes. He’s a natural at this, a veteran, so to speak. He knows which ways to rub his wings and which parts get the most sensitive, where the oil forms and slicks down his wings… He’s got it mapped out just as well as his usual fantasy. One that includes a man who’s just outside that thin door.

Dean braces one arm on the shower wall, its smell an overpowering lemon scent with a hint of something that makes Dean want to hump the wall. Apparently Cas makes him animalistic in sexual thoughts and tendencies as he makes a soft growl, careful not to be too loud so the stream of water can cover up what he’s doing- though he probably won’t mind if Cas finds out. Maybe he’ll even join in with him. Dean can’t help a groan that leaves his lips, fingers fluidly moving through his feathers as he strokes himself, thoughts of Cas overpowering his mind as Dean bites his lower lip. This is even better than his first time- and maybe it’s got to do with recent developments. Cas’ wings, that is. It lends itself to Dean’s imagination, that Cas is behind him, feeling the most special and sexual part of Dean’s wing as he whispers words in Dean’s ear that makes his skin tingle more so from the syllables than the prickles of water from the showerhead. He goes a little faster, thinking about Cas earlier when he showed Dean the undersides of his wings, or the smell and sight of Cas’ oil lining and slicking his feathers. Dean imagines that it’s Cas’ oil on his wings, and it sends Dean off into an orgasm so strong he nearly shouts in the shower as he releases on the wall.

He shudders it out, hand never leaving his wing as he keeps picturing Cas there instead of himself- that the man won’t give Dean a break and will basically keep rubbing him till he goes over the edge again. Maybe until he’s pleased with how many times Dean’s lost himself in orgasmic bliss. The sad thing about this is that Dean’s lasting time has drastically shortened- he didn’t even reach the sex images yet, all it took were the thoughts of Castiel’s new wings and his feathers and oil- just realizing that causes Dean to peak again.

Of course, even without Cas even knowing about Dean’s little fantasy, the man has still managed to surprise him.

_**…** _

“You okay Dean? You took a bit in the shower.” Cas asks from the kitchen, Dean exiting in nothing but a towel, his wings still out on his back to “dry”. He’s even left a few droplets so they can roll down his skin for Cas to watch.

“Yeah- my wings just took a little bit longer today than expected.”

Cas begins to say something but is cut off when he sees Dean in almost all of his sex god glory. They don’t make you a model for nothing, baby.

“Oh- umm.” Cas looks away awkwardly, and Dean swears he’s fucking blushing, “Food’s ready.”

Huh- success for once. It feels… nice.

“Thanks Cas-” Dean gives a smile, letting his arms up so he can pick a shirt up in the air to ruffle out the wrinkles, his towel settling lower on his hip bone, Cas watching the fabric hang farther down hungrily- and not because he hasn’t had his eggs yet, “Lemme get dressed first and then I’ll eat-”

“Hold on, I think you left the sink running in the bathroom.”

Dean smirks, but he can also hear the flow of water and he silently curses at himself for giving Cas a viable reason to run off before the show starts. He reluctantly puts his boxers on, knowing it would be suspicious- and remember, Dean doesn’t want to push this into the realm of ‘restraining orders filed’. Cas doesn’t come back for a little while, Dean supposing he probably awkwarded the guy out a little with how far he went today. Dean feels a small bit of guilt swirl in his stomach like the mist he notices outside as he pulls a shirt on over his chest, one with slots for the wings. He’s going to leave them out today, not only to impress Cas but also because they’re getting a little sore. The events Dean did earlier in the shower don’t help either.

Dean puts on some sweatpants and goes to find his eggs steaming on the counter. He puts some into his mouth, finding it fairly pleasing as a small moan leaves his mouth. He didn’t expect to be so hungry.

He also didn’t expect the moan in return from the bathroom. Dean’s head pricks up, but there’s nothing but absolute silence now. It’s so quiet that Dean can hear the mist hitting the window from outside. Dean swallows, then starts eating his eggs again because he’s unsure if he actually just heard that or his imagination was starting to get the better of him.

It’s probably the latter.

_**…** _

Dean and Cas haven’t been talking much since Dean ended his shower. It’s a little awkward because it’s been a few hours filled with nothing but unmet glances and silence- and it’s starting to undo Dean’s sanity inch by precious inch.

“Cas-” Dean finally gives in, “Cas why aren’t we speaking to each other?”

“We’re speaking now…” Cas says sheepishly.

Dean huffs, “That’s not the point, Cas. We’ve been dancing around each other for several hours and I want to know why.”

Cas doesn’t meet his eyes, “I don’t know either…”

“Cas, what did I tell you about lying?”

“That I’m awful at it and I shouldn’t try?”

“Yeah-” Dean sounds like a scolding parent, _God fucking bless,_  “then why are you doing it, then?”

Castiel scuffs the ground with his foot, his wings falling in a way that tells Dean he’s ashamed, “It’s a personal reason, okay?”

Dean rolls his shoulders a little to ease out some of their tension, “I think we’ve crossed the bridge of ‘personal boundaries’ a long time ago, Cas.”

“Well this is different Dean-” Cas defends himself tersely, “besides, you won’t even tell me what’s been up with you. Can you explain that instead?”

This is it- the moment of truth. This could be the climax, the set point that causes so much to happen that leads to a simple resolution. Dean can tell him now, can tell Cas about his feelings and how he’s been pining for him for several months now, at least. But as he realizes the opening he has, Dean suddenly gets cold feet. Maybe he wasn’t ready to jump in as he originally thought… Dean rubs the back of his neck and stares at the floorboards. It’s of course now when he can set things in motion that he loses any courage or balls he has to even do it.

“I don’t think I can…” Dean admits, disgust for himself boiling up to the surface in his voice.

“Then I don’t have to tell you what’s up now.” Cas seems determined on this, “If you can’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on with you- then why do I bother explaining what’s happening to myself?”

Cas actually sounds hurt, like Dean’s sudden and uncharacteristic unwillingness to speak about himself have scalded him and Dean’s having to watch as the burns blister and redden, “Cas- it’s not that I don’t trust you it’s just… I wish I could be open about it and tell you- it’s just way more complicated than that.”

Castiel just turns and starts walking to his room angrily, “Of course it is Dean. It always is.”

There’s the slam of Cas’ bedroom door, and a small part of Dean says he deserved to have it shut so forcefully in his face rather than a few feet away.

_**…** _

  


Cas doesn’t even come out of his room, the night wearily setting over New York like the doubt in Dean’s conscious. Maybe he had fucked this up already, it’d be like him to prematurely cause a downfall that makes everything go to shit beforehand. He places a plate on the floor in front of Castiel’s room and knocks.

“I know you’re mad at me Cas- I don’t blame you for that… I’m not asking you to come out, I just fixed you a sandwich and it’s outside your door for whenever you want it.”

 

 

Dean leaves then, settling on the couch, wings spread out around him as he closes his eyes. He hears Castiel open his bedroom door, grabbing the plate of food and then shutting it again.

Dean considers it a small victory as he shuts his eyes.

_**…** _

Dean shifts on the couch, his back uncomfortable and his wings all over the place. He probably looks like utter shit right now.

 

_Click._

 

 

“What the fu-” Dean shoots up, finding a smirking Cas with his camera, “Cas?”

“I came in here and what do I see? Finally, a chance to get a bad pic-”

Dean watches as Cas’ face falls while viewing the photo he’d just taken, “What is it?”

Cas pouts, “It still looks good…”

“Huh- plot twist.”

Cas smiles but it’s not a complete one, it’s got undertones in it and Dean knows where this is going, “Dean- about yesterday-”

“It’s okay Cas. I know.”

Cas shakes his head, “No, I need to apologize. I was a little too harsh on you and demanding to pry into something that I shouldn’t be. I dunno, I guess I’ve just been going through a lot lately.” Cas’ wings twitch as an ironic example.

“It’s not your fault, I was doing the same thing. I was trying to push you when you didn’t want to jump. It’s okay- and I should be more open with you in the first place. We’re friends, I should be able to open up to you without self-conscious issues.”

“W-We’re friends? …”

“Of course!” Dean seems a little taken aback but it’s because he’s so surprised at Cas’ words, “I think we’ve been that way for a while don’t you think?”

Cas shakes his head in denial, “I thought we were just people who interacted because our jobs coincided.”

Dean chuckles, “Yeah, because a co-worker would totally do this for their fellow employee.”

“Do what?”

“All that we’ve done.” Dean says incredulously, “Like me helping you so much with your wings and staying the night and all of that other stuff.”

“Oh.”

Dean smirks, “Yeah-  _oh._ ”

This time however, Dean isn’t off when he says it.

_**…** _

Dean and Cas fall into something other than silence, it’s more of a ‘let me take a quick glance at you because I feel like an idiot for before’. It’s just swipes of the eyes that last a few split seconds or more, and it always somehow ends with one of them meeting the glances by chance, and a period of looking at something else for about five minutes. Dean’s never been a part of something so awkward or weird before- he’s kinda unsure what the hell to call this… phase?

“Cas.” Dean can’t take this anymore, “What are we doing?”

Cas doesn’t look towards Dean, per the recent status quo, “I think we’re both trying to avoid each other as much as we can…”

They both don’t deny it, and after a little while Dean speaks again, “We should just get this out in open air, Cas. I’m tired of lingering on the edge just waitin’ for me or something else to fall over. So Cas- what’s it gonna be that topples?”

Cas seems a little uneasy, like the things Dean just said are similar to whenever a parent talks to their child about something fairly private or sexual. He grips his jeans by the knees and his knuckles pop, teeth catching on his bottom lip rather than on his words that he just can’t seem to get out or say.

“Cas.”

“It’s not that simple, Dean. It’s private…” Cas looks away, his wings twitching in nervousness.

Dean rolls his eyes, “Cas, here’s a newsflash. I’ve been dealing with one of your most intricate and intimate parts of your body for the past few days, felt your feathers- which I don’t think you understand the importance of- and taken care of them. I think we’re beyond this point, am I right?”

Castiel seems to just stiffen, “What do you mean, ‘I don’t think you understand the importance of’? …”

_Oh no._

“Do you just want me to come out and tell you, dammit?”

“Do I want to know?” Cas counters.

Dean looks down at the couch. Here it is- _the moment._  The single, one moment that everything syncs. All the puzzles pieces- even if they seemed so complex and unable to match and connect- fall into place and set out the intricate pattern of all Dean’s been doing for the past several months for Cas. That he’s been wanting the man ever since he saw him for the first time at a convention taking pictures of him. That he’s the only person he lets photograph his wings because he’s the only person he’s ever wanted to touch him. The only person to take his fingers and ruffle his feathers, to feel his breath on his neck in the daylight with a ‘good morning’ hushed against his warm skin by a chaste little kisses. Or to have those lips catch on his and slide, for their skin to meet and shift against one another, or for Cas to straddle his hips and roll his own till they both pass out. It’s all so complicated and vast- but it’s all Dean wants, needs. It seems so funny that it’s all pinpointed down to this very moment for it to set off a chain reaction. It’s just waiting for Dean to press the ‘go’ button and hit the throttle.

“I don’t know, do you?” Dean is still lingering off because he doesn’t want to scare Cas away by being direct for the first time, “Because I’m positive you may not want to speak to me ever again if I do.”

Cas slides a little closer, Dean finding himself doing the same, “Nothing can do that Dean.”

Dean swallows, “Then you want me to tell you everything? …”

Cas nods, “I’ll listen to it all.”

“Cas…” Dean takes the man’s hand in his own, his new wings puffing out in surprise as Dean lowers his voice to where it’s close enough to be a whisper, “I’ve been practically dancing around you since I met you Cas- ever since that single moment at that magazine fair when we met. How you smiled whenever I came up on the stage while you were on the first row, the seat in the exact middle. I guess that’s what sold it for me, because I’ve never seen someone for the first time and have been absolutely blown away by them like I have with you. That’s why I came to work with you and no one else, the reason why I showed my wings only to you because I’ve been wanting you to touch them for so long that I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought of it or you.. That I’ve been courting you for the past few months in hopes that you’d accept me... It seems fucking stupid for me to be so trite with this, or say things that sound nothing more than cliche at best- but dammit Cas… I’ve wanted you for so long that it doesn’t matter anymore. All that does is that I’m here with you telling you everything that I’ve been doing has led to this one, moment. I guess that’s all our relationship is, isn’t it? Those single moments that defines and composes everything else afterwards, that I’m hoping right now will just solve everything and-”

Dean’s cut off by getting pushed into the back of the sofa with Cas on top of him, his lips smashing needily into his own. Dean’s words and breath are stolen away as he hums, considering he’s been wanting this ever since he saw that mouth turn upwards in a grin. Cas grabs a handful of Dean’s tee and lets his fingers rush through Dean’s hair to settle on his jaw. When Cas breaks it off to breathe Dean can’t help but sigh in pure content.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Or how long I’ve wanted you too…” Cas says quietly.

Dean leans up on his elbows, “Really? …”

Cas nods, leaning back on Dean with his face a few mere inches away, Dean doing nothing but transitioning from his eyes to the cupid’s bow of his flushing lips, “I had no idea you were interested in me, so I never made any signs- or tried to- about it. I thought you only liked my style or something, and I never quite figured out why you always kept coming back to me for doing your pictures. I didn’t expect for the whole wing thing to happen, but it did… C-Can I tell you something else Dean, and promise you won’t get weirded out? …”

“I promise I won’t, so shoot Cas.”

“The whole oil thing-” Cas looks so fucking _red,_  “it happened because I thought of you…”

Dean’s speechless.

Cas looks away, “Yeah I know- it’s weird. But I think it means that I’m turned on or something? I’m not sure, all that I do know is that when you went off to get your things from your place that’s when it happened. I was looking at the photos you took of me and all of that, and I felt so endeared about it and then next thing I know there’s oil sliding down my wings.”

Dean can’t help but find this as nothing but extremely arousing.

“Then I found out how sensitive they could get and all of that… I imagined it was you…” Cas admits, “That’s the thing I couldn’t tell you- because it coincides with the fact I practically masterbated to the thought of you more than once, and that you heard me moan from the bathroom after the towel incident…”

Yep- there goes any worry Dean had right out the window. Talk about defenestration.  

“Don’t feel too embarrassed Cas-” Dean leans forward to whisper in Cas’ ear with a seductive tone, “because I’ve done that so many times I’ve lost count of it too. I always pictured it as you, too. That’s why I take so long in the shower.”

And with that- Cas is on Dean again in zero seconds flat.

  



	4. Success, Bitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha- okay, so I finally finished. Sue me- I was on vacation and had no wifi so, meh.
> 
> What's done is done.  
> Like this story.
> 
> Sorry it's so short but I got tired and I was getting free time and I finished just meh.

"Dean..." Cas moans for probably the thousandth time, head thrown back as Dean slams him into a wall.

 

It's been like this for some time now- unstoppable fingers, the circulation of hips and skin, sounds that are probably disgusting and entertaining some neighbors. It doesn't matter, all that does is Dean finally gets to feel that photographer he's been pinning for underneath his fingertips and if that isn't a turn on... well you're wrong.

 

"Feel good, Cas?"

 

The man just nods, wings flailing beside him as his back repeatedly meets the wall. Dean runs a finger up the grains of feathers, enjoying the fact he's pulling Cas apart from the seams and stiching him back together.

 

"You know how long I've been waiting for this?" Dean whispers heatedly into Castiel's ear, the man holding onto him with legs wrapped around Dean's moving waist, "I've been pinning for you since the convention- wanted to know how I could make you scream with my fingers or my hips. How your skin would look bruised from my mouth."

 

Cas can't say anything because Dean's licking a long line up the photographer's neck, his mouth agape. They move like this to the table, floor, kitchen counter, fridge door, and now the bathroom as they tumble inside of it. Dean turns on the water as Cas steals his lip again, teeth snagging and fingers wandering. Dean moans into the other man's flesh as his fingers graze his wings- something Cas has learned gives him something over Dean during this major exercise time- and smiling wide at the noise and blush coming from the man. 

 

"Cas..." 

 

"Yes, Dean?" the bastard keeps rubbing into the grain and against it, causing shivers and moans to escape from Dean, "Something wrong?"

 

Dean burrows his face in his shoulder, something about Cas touching his wings like this making them as sensitive as they were when Dean first got them- falling apart at barely any sensation, "Cas- please..."

 

The man chuckles, vibrating in the air as he lets up for just a moment so they can at least get into the shower before the water goes cold- though the pair can easily keep themselves warm. The droplets only pelt their wings and slick their skin, Dean letting his hand drop low and feel around Castiel's body as the other man lets him, body keening to his touch. Dean presses long, sucking kisses against his neck- moans leaving Castiel's throat and buzzing against Dean's lips. The photographer's hand snakes around the one Dean has against the wall, pulling it down and causing Dean to hesitate.

 

"Cas?"

 

"I want-" he pants, quickly swallowing and catching his breath, voice barely above the stream of constant hot water, "I want you to touch my wings."

 

Dean's heart beats faster at those words, not even pausing a second to crash his lips against Castiel's. He pushes him against the wall, hips rolling as his fingers snake through feathers and feel them twitch in earnest. The photographer lets Dean follow the trails of water droplets, to find the parts of his wings that are the most reactive to his touch. Dean revels in it, smiling widely at the fact he's got Castiel so pleased he looks like he's about to-

 

"Dean!"

 

Dean kisses Cas gently on the lips, feeling him shudder through the burst of chemicals and going through the high. When it's all over, Cas puts his face against Dean's shoulder, breathing onto him as the water turns from hot to cool on Dean's skin. All there is to hear is the shower and Cas' breath trying to even out, his lips parted and near Dean's body and it's enough to set him off in the knowledge he just got him off- again.

 

"We should've done this  _way_ sooner."

 

Cas laughs out, lungs still trying to catch up to normality- "Agreed."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT YOU LIL SHITES. I LOVE YOU.


End file.
